Aftermath
by bpersinger
Summary: The aftermath of Episode 21, Season 2. Starts out as just a little father/son fic, but may include other characters down the road. SPOILERS AHEAD! Rated M for language and dark themes. Please review!
1. Chapter 1

Pain… Everything was pain… Jughead could barely breathe with the intensity of the pain spread all throughout his body. It would consume him, he was sure of it. His first fleeting moments of consciousness were short-lived, his thinking dulled and sluggish. He was aware of one thing, and one thing only. Unforgiving pain…

The second time Jughead regained consciousness, he felt much more alert. The magnitude of his injuries still took main focus, but he was able to feel something other than the searing pain coursing through his battered body. There was a hand in his hair, and a voice lulling him back to reality. He couldn't quite make out the words, but he knew the person was encouraging him to show some sign of lucidness. Unfortunately for Jug, he was unable to oblige before he once again succumbed to sweet, dreamless sleep.

"Jug… Please, son… I know I wasn't the best father, or even a good one at that. But I swear to you, if you just open your eyes, I'll change. I'll be the man you've needed me to be your entire life. I'll give up the Serpents, and I'll get your mom and Jellybean back. We can be a family again, Jug. Just please, wake up." Jughead heard his father crying for the first time in his life on the third time he slipped out of his deep sleep. He fully understood the weight of what his father was offering. He would give up everything that made him F.P. Jones, just to have his son back.

With all the strength he could muster, Jughead Jones cracked open his eyes. He was momentarily blinded by the bright hospital lights, sending his already pounding headache into overdrive. He let out a low groan, clenching his eyes shut quickly. F.P. cradled his son's face, letting out a choked sob, as he gently wrapped his arms around his brave boy.

"Was that real? Did I just imagine it? Jug, can you hear me? Can you say something?" F.P. encouraged, holding his son at arms length to see his reaction. Slowly, Jughead peeked out at his dad through his thick lashes and gave him a small smile. Tears still cascading down the Jones patriarchy's face, he broke out into a fit of astonished laughs.

"I can't believe it! I finally got you back! Don't you ever do that to me again!" He said, his voice breaking a little at the end as he pulled the broken boy close once again. Jughead moaned at the slight movement, his right arm felt like it was on fire. The memories started rushing back to him, and the poor kid was helpless as one after another, the scenes of his self-surrender flashed through his mind.

 _The Ghoulies quickly surrounding him, eerie smiles on their faces… The feeling of bones cracking under the swing of their punches and kicks… The white-hot burning of Penny's razorblade sliding under his pale skin, eternally mutilating him… The feeling of emptiness as he watched them all leave his bloodied body in the dirt, laughing at his stupidity for showing up in the first place…_

At the barrage of terror, Jughead felt like he was unraveling. His breathing became labored, causing his healing ribs to protest angrily. He felt like his throat was constricted, and tears streamed down his cheeks. The heart monitor was beeping like crazy, and it wasn't long before a team of nurses came sprinting into the room. They tried shoving F.P. back, but Jughead held onto his dad's hand weakly. It was enough for his father to fight back at the hands pulling him from his boy.

"He wants me, dammit! He needs me." The man pleaded, cradling Jughead's limp hand in both of his own. The teens anguished eyes found his dad's, and at that moment, it was crystal clear to F.P. what was going on. He knelt by his son's bedside, ever so carefully thumbing away the tears rolling down Jughead's ghostly white face.

"Hey, now. It's okay. You're okay, Jug. Just look at me. I won't let anyone hurt you ever again, son. It's alright, now. Just try and breath, baby." F.P. crooned, stroking the sobbing boy's cheeks. At his father's efforts, Jughead's breathing started to mellow out. The nurses continued to check a few things, but they soon were comfortable enough to leave the Jones' men alone.

"Listen, son… There's a lot of things that we need to talk about, but it all can wait for another day. For now, how about you get some rest? You look exhausted." Jughead's eyes widened a little, his fears evident. The older man sighed, his heart breaking for his kid.

"Dad…" Jughead whispered, his voice wavering slightly. He reached out with his good arm, grabbing a fist full of his dad's thin T-shirt. F.P. smiled sadly, resting a hand over his son's.

"I won't go anywhere. I'll be right here when you wake up, and I swear to you, nobody is going to get to you. Just rest, Jug." He crooned, scooting a plastic chair next to Jughead's bed, and perching on the edge. He wove his hand through his kid's hair, like he did when he was just a little boy.

"Sleep, son." And Jughead did.


	2. Chapter 2

AN: _I don't know how many chapters this is going to be, but I feel like I should keep going with it. This is entirely based off of the television show. I don't own anything. Please review!_

The next day, Jughead rose out his dreamless sleep to find his father slumped over, head resting on the bed and arms hanging at his side. The teen suppressed a laugh, wary of his healing ribs, and gently tapped his dad on the forehead.

"Earth to Dad." He quietly quipped with a mischievous grin. F.P. shot upright, swiping at a bit of drool on his cheek to Jughead's amusement. The older man shot a half-hearted glare at his boy, and rubbed his tired eyes. He had stayed up more than half the night, convinced that if he finally nodded off, he would wake up and realize that he had dreamt Jughead waking up from his coma-like state. He didn't think his heart could handle that. The man stretched his long arms, his joints popping, and then did something that absolutely stunned Jughead. He leaned over the pale and injured boy, swept his hair back, and kissed his son on his forehead.

"Morning, Jug. How d'you feel?" He asked, sleep still evident in his voice as he lowered back down into his chair. Momentarily stunned, Jughead attempted a shrug before his right arm protested angrily. He sucked in a breath, biting his bottom lip. His dad had been in the process of digging his phone out of his coat pocket and didn't seem to notice.

"Fine..." The teen mumbled, casting his eyes downward. It wasn't a complete lie. He did feel fine as long as he didn't move. For the first time since he had been in the hospital, Jughead really looked at himself. Though a thin white blanket covered his lower half, he could tell that he was almost completely covered in gauze. His left leg was in a cast, a couple of pillows propping up his broken extremity. He was shirtless, but his torso was wrapped to help his cracked ribs. Every inch of his skin that wasn't hidden under bandages was littered with dark bruises. The battered teen couldn't turn to look at his mutilated arm, not quite ready to face that reality yet.

"I'm going to let the nurses know that you're awake, and give Fred a call. I bet you could probably see your friends today or tomorrow." His father said with a smile. Jughead's blood ran cold at the thought of anyone seeing him like this… He was so beaten down and broken.

"No." He whispered quickly. F.P. looked at his kid in confusion. Betty and Archie were Jughead's best friends. The three were practically inseparable. Jug seemed to shrink down further in his bed, looking so incredibly small and frightened.

"What is it, Jug?" F.P. reached for his son's hand, and gave it a comforting squeeze. It took a minute for Jughead to say something, a storm brewing in his dark eyes. When the teen did finally speak up, his father had to ask him to repeat himself out of pure shock.

"I look like a freak." Jughead muttered, his chin quivering and a stray tear rolling down his cheek. It was as if someone took a sledgehammer to F.P.'s heart and shattered it into a million pieces. He sighed, feeling as if he had aged fifty years in one night, and carefully pulled his son into a hug. He held him for a while before the older man broke the silence that had fallen over the small hospital room.

"As your father, I don't condone what you did. And don't think that there won't be consequences for it, but that's for another time. But speaking as the leader of the Serpents, you are a hero, Jughead Jones. A selfless, brave, and courageous young man, who faced an entire army alone without a second thought to save his people. I am so proud of you." At the end of his short monologue, both Jones' were in tears.

"But I was stupid. I fell for their trap! I was so naive to think that… _she_ would just drop everything." Jughead finished with a sob, his skin crawling at the mere thought of Penny.

"Listen to me, son. You did what you thought was right. Your heart was in the right place." F.P. crooned, rubbing soothing circles onto Jug's back. The teen's cries didn't relent.

"It was my own fault… Everything bad that happened to me that night was all my own fault. I should've listened to you!" Jughead buried his face in his father's shoulder, trembling in pain and embarrassment. He grabbed at the back of his dad's shirt like it was a life preserver, keeping him afloat in this endless sea of pain and regret.

"Don't you dare say that, Jughead." F.P. commanded, holding his son at arm's length and forcing the boy to look into his eyes. "If anyone is to blame for this, it's Penny." Jug clenched his eyes shut when her name was spoken, his arm burning as if her razorblade was carving into him all over again.

"Stop…" He pleaded weakly, trying to wriggle out of his father's firm grip. F.P. didn't budge.

"No. You have to listen to this, Jug. Look at me!" He ordered. The teen complied hesitantly, his eyes misty and bloodshot. F.P. couldn't help but wipe away a couple of stray tears from his son's puffy cheeks before he continued.

"This was Penny's fault. Not yours. She is a monster for doing this to you-" Jughead cut him off quickly, a spark igniting in his eyes.

"She did exactly what I did to her. I drew first blood."

"Only after she threatened you and your family. She may have not drawn first blood, but she crossed a line. She carved up your entire arm, Jug. Not just your tattoo. She's a sick, twisted bitch. And as if that weren't enough for her, she almost had you killed!" Jughead slumped against his father, his breathing erratic. The pair sat like that for a few minutes, just leaning on each other, emotionally and physically, before Jughead sat back in his bed and gave his father a curt nod.

"You're right." He admitted, scrubbing at the tear tracks on his face. He had just woken up, but he was already so exhausted. F.P. gave him a sad smile and ran his hand through his kid's hair. At the contact, Jug closed his eyes and his breathing finally started to mellow out. Just before he fell asleep, he heard his father sigh deeply.

"Rest, son. I'll be here when you wake up."


	3. Chapter 3

AN: _Just a short chapter tonight. Warning, it's pretty dark. Shocker, I know. Once again, I don't own anything. Please review! I've been getting some wonderful feedback, so I am going to continue this story. Let me know what you think!_

"Dad?" Jughead weakly called out. He scanned the room upon seeing the little plastic chair next to his bed that his father normally occupied was vacant. There wasn't a trace of sunlight streaming in from the window to his right, only rain softly thudding against it. Every so often, a strike of lightning would illuminate the night sky with rolling thunder following closely. The teen picked nervously at his blanket, his eyes trained on the door directly across from him. It didn't take long for his mind to wander into dangerous territory. He pictured Penny waltzing in with a murderous smile, intent on finishing what she had started. Tremors started to wrack his thin frame, slightly aggravating his injuries. Jug clenched his teeth against the pain, not taking his eyes off of the door for a single second.

"Is anyone there?" He tried a little louder, cursing himself for jumping at his own voice, but he was met with no response. Tears pricked at the corners of his eyes. Desperate for this torture of waiting to be over with, Jughead swung his legs off the bed, his aching body screaming at him to stop. He pushed the sensation to the back of his mind, focusing only on getting the hell out of this hospital where he was nothing more than a sitting duck. He leaned heavily on his IV pole, using it as a crutch for his broken leg. Pure adrenaline coursing through his veins, the teen took a few shaky steps before the door creaked open slowly. Jug scrambled backward, falling heavily on the linoleum floor. A stream of broken pleas fell from his lips as he cowered from the dark figure entering his room. A bolt of lightning revealed a flash of blonde hair, and Jughead's quiet pleading turned into terrified screams for help. His back hit the wall, and he curled in on himself as best as his broken body would allow.

"What the hell is going on?" F.P. demanded as he ran into the room, the door smacking against the wall loudly. He flicked on the lights to reveal a stunned Betty Cooper, her gaze transfixed on her boyfriend, who was absolutely petrified. Jughead was in a full blown panic attack at this point, convinced that it was Penny here to kill him. F.P. swept past Betty, kneeling beside his kid carefully. He tried to pry Jug's arms from his face, softly reassuring him that everything was fine and nobody was going to hurt him. Betty stood frozen as F.P. and a few nurses tried to get Jughead back under control, who was weakly batting their hands away and sobbing uncontrollably.

"Hey, son. Look at me, Jug. You're okay, just look at me." The words fell on deaf ears, and it was clear to everyone that Jughead was not calming down anytime soon.

"She's gonna kill me." Jughead kept repeating, his dark eyes wild. Dr. Masters stormed into the room, a syringe in hand. He plunged it in Jug's left shoulder without a second thought, earning a yelp from the boy, and stepping back to watch the drugs take their desired effect. The teen's wide, frantic eyes grew heavy and his body went limp. His eyes found Betty's, and there was a spark of recognition under fluttering lashes just before he slipped into a deep sleep.

"That should do it." The physician mumbled to nobody in particular, disposing of the needle in a bio-hazard container, and striding out of the room just as quickly as he came. The three nurses, with the help of F.P., situated Jughead back in bed. They lingered, checking his vitals and his IV site before they reluctantly exited the small hospital room. Betty was tucked away in a corner of the room, arms wrapped around herself and tears cascading down her cheeks.

"I'm so sorry." She whispered, her watery gaze never leaving Jug's face. Before F.P. could respond, the blonde had slipped out of the door and disappeared down the hall. The man groaned, his head falling into his hands. He wished that this could just be over already. He wished his son could go back to the fearless, confident, smart ass young man that he was a week ago. But most of all, he wished Penny Peabody dead.


End file.
